


Worth It Every Time

by galaxyhitchiker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Captain America: Civil War Trailer, Civil War (Marvel), Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marvel 616 (Freeform), One-Sided Relationship, Random & Short, Slow To Update, Tony-centric, Whump, hurt!Tony, unrelated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyhitchiker/pseuds/galaxyhitchiker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fics featuring reckless Tony and a loving Steve.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Concerned

When Tony came to, he realized two affirmating things.

Firstly, his bed was extraordinarily and satisfyingly comfortable. He concluded that this change must have been the result of Steve's insistence.

Secondly... _Steve._

The super soldier sat quietly next to him on a rickety chair, not looking very admirable at the moment but like himself nonetheless. His hair was askew, expression tired but determined, and the man swiftly tensed to attention when Tony's muddled vision finally cleared up enough to focus on the figure inches away from him. It lanced in and out of sharp focus like a kaleidoscope of moving color. Tony attempted to sit up and groaned as the dizziness increased, flopping back down onto his elbows in a defeated stance, before he felt a warm hand press into his shoulder gently.

"Lay down, Tony."

"I'd love to," he croaked in reply, trying not to submit to the strong urge he had of burrowing his face into his pillow. "Thanks for the suggestion."

A light chuckle. It sounded more relieved than amused. "You scare me to death every time you do this, Tony."

"Do what?"

The hand moved from resting gently on his shoulder to sliding up to his cheek. Steve brushed the side of his face carefully, as if handling a valuable artifact, and rose from the plastic chair. He settled cautiously onto the side of his bed, and Tony felt it shift under Steve's weight. They sat in silence for a slight pause, completely silent besides Tony's ragged breathing and the muffled murmur of nurses and recipents talking outside. 

A sigh. "Putting yourself in imminent danger without telling a soul and then getting hurt. At your own expense. Jesus, Stark... You've no idea how much I worry."

Through the slight haze of his mind, Tony reached up to pull his boyfriend down for a sloppy kiss. It was a little off-center and unexpected, but they stayed like that for a few seconds until Steve leaned down further, wrapping careful arms around him. Everything was warm and pleasant, tendrils of ecstacy unfurling in his mind like hesitant vines entwining around his heart; Tony was lost in the taste and feel of Steve, Steve, _Steve_...

When the blond soldier pulled away reluctantly, Tony laid back down onto his bed, energy spent. "Now _that_ is what I woke up for."

As the world around him blurred out like an old phone camera malfunctioning, Tony felt his eyes drooping closed, weighed down by medication and the urge to rest. Just before darkness overcame him, he felt a chaste kiss on his forehead and an affectionate voice whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too," he mustered in return, unsure if his words were even intelligible, "And I'm sorry for making you worry."

Another kiss. Then darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos because who doesn't love a little Stony fluff?


	2. A Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's a little lost.

"I don't remember."

Tony stares down at his hands, fidgeting with an old gadget. He can't quite remember the last time he worked on it, which unnerves him a little, because he's the kind of guy that remembers everything.

Iron Man's voice has just cracked- add that to the growing list of unexpected reactions- and he blinks once, twice, three times before quickly glancing up just to have someone else to stare at, even if he doesn't deserve to look at what he deems the greatest beauty in the universe.

Surprisingly, Steve is finally looking at him now, expression- _concerned?-_ and mouth softer. His sapphire eyes have always looked like rings of fire to Tony- the gas stove ones that crackle greyish instead of orange. It's a weird comparison, but maybe it's a reasonable explanation to the fiery look Cap always had, unbidden.

He stumbles over his next words. "I can't- I don't remember. Everyone else either hates me or doesn't want to break things to me. Either way I can't- I _don't_  remember."

They're silent for a few moments. Tony hopes that Steve isn't still looking at him like that, because he doesn't really deserve anyone's worry. Especially not Steve's. Months ago, when he came back, alive and confused, Steve couldn't even bear to look at him, much less talk, and avoided him whenever possible.

So he accepted it, too. There's nothing in the world he can possibly do to apologize and make it up to Steve and try to redeem himself. So Tony does the thing he's best at- expecting and accepting. But he _certainly_ doesn't expect a solid hand pressing gently into his right shoulder, firm and warm and enough for Tony to suddenly blink back tears. 

"I know-" his throat seems to close up- "I know I don't deserve your help, Steve. You pretty much hate me and I don't really blame you. I just..."

"I don't hate you," comes the quiet interruption. Tony looks up again, surprised, and tries not too lean into his touch. Now Steve looks restrained, biting back something unreadable. "I hate some of the things you've done, Tony. And most of the team hasn't forgiven you yet."

Tony knew that already, repeats to himself lying awake at night, but it still stings. It's true, though, and what right does he have to feel shitty about it-

"But I miss you," Steve continues, gently touching Tony's face, lifting it up to meet their eyes. Tony's shocked into silence, because after all of the complete and utter betrayal he dumped onto the team, onto himself, onto _Steve_ , he's still here, warmth arising in his eyes, still here saying-

"I miss you," Steve repeats. "This is going to take a while- us rebuilding ourselves. Trusting each other."

Tony swallows, speechless, disbelieving at this offer.

"But we can do it. I know I can. How about... but how about you, Tony? Do you want"- Steve loosely gestures to them, the small space between them- "this again?"

"Fucking hell, Steve," he replies, voice hoarse and cheeks wet- when did they get wet? "Of course I do. _Of course_."

Without another word, without more need for discussion at the moment, Tony reaches tentatively for Steve's hand after dropping his toy back onto the desk and they entwine fingers, watching every inch of each other to savor the moment of something new, something infinite. 


	3. Healthy Persuasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while!

Slowly, Tony looks up, blinking hard, eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

Steve is appalled, to say the least. He carefully brings a hand up to cup the side of Tony's face, leaning over the work desk, littered with papers and blueprints of all sorts, covered in a familiar scrawl. "When have you last slept?"

"Have you brought any coffee?" The billionare skillfully evades the question, trying desperately not to lean into the warm touch, although his lashes are already fluttering closed. Damn Steve and his body heat.

"Tony," Steve pleads quietly, as if trying to explain something complicated (which it kind of is), "You need to come to bed."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Tony scrutinizes the other man before examining his table. Thick packets of official documents that need to be signed, diagrams of his own ideas, hasty scribbles on scrap paper- and he hasn't even gotten started on the emails. There is so much work to be done, but he's  _exhausted_ now, which has never been a problem before, so he's not sure why it's affecting him all of a sudden-

"Tony." Oh, right. _That's_ why. He looks up dreamily at those azure eyes, before Steve moves his hand away and the hot caress is replaced by cold air. They stare each other down, unrelenting, until Tony reminds himself there's plenty of time.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Fine. Fine. I'm coming."

Captain America glares, and it's a little intimidating. Alright- it's really intimidating.

"Right now," Tony adds quickly, grinning, and nearly stands up only to almost fall onto his face. His legs are weak from sitting so long, and the first thing he wants to do is collapse onto a nice bed.

Steve catches him- he always catches him. Pressing a kiss to Tony's head, he hauls him up to their bedroom upstairs.

Tony's grateful.


	4. A Little Displaced

"He did  _what?"_

Tony rouses to the voice, hard and familiar and  _furious._ His lashes flutter, eyes opening for a few seconds to be greeted by a hazy view, before he threatens to slip out of consciousness again. 

As memories start to flood back, he realizes he must be in a hospital, doped up on pain meds. After putting himself in harm's way- yet again- for a teammate. Which means the voice must belong to-

"Are you fucking kidding me? Tony-"

A quiet plea from a doctor to his left.

The beeping of a heart monitor.

In his mind there flashes a glimpse of blue eyes, blazing and bright. Then more yelling- "...fucking _idiot,_ I can't believe-"

Tony reaches out, blindly, eyes struggling to open, and feels a warm, familiar hand at his right side. He grips it with all his might, which, unfortunately, isn't so impressive right now.

But Steve notices, and his voice becomes much softer. "Tony?"

"Shut up," he replies eloquently, "You're scaring everyone here."

"Son of a gun." Then Tony feels the taste of him on his lips, sweet and gentle and forgiving, tears smudging onto his face. They're alright for now. Alright. 

Although Tony nearly groans out loud, thinking of the scolding that's going to come afterwards. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave new chapter ideas in the comments for me to write if you wouldn't mind, because as you can see, I'm getting pretty repetitive.
> 
>  _Any_ ideas are good. If I personally find one challenging, I'll just tweak it a little.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Almost Drunk on Love

Tony is slumped over his own bar counter, fingers clutching onto a bottle of vodka like he's never going to let it go. Maybe he won't. There's no way to describe the mess of feelings he can't shake off right now: anger, guilt, betrayal, depression, tiredness. He didn't love anyone else, didn't care about anyone else, until _he_ came along, and the one time Tony is willing to return it the best he can-

He doesn't love him back.

A shot glass lies innocently next to his hand, but he wants to destroy it. He wants to drink out of it. But he also knows he's too much of a coward to fill it up and he's too much of a coward to put it away, so Tony remains in the middle, which is the worst place you can be. He knows he must look terrible, with thick crescents lining his undereyes, but looking in the mirror has lately been an ordeal. Tony wants to punch the glass with his fists, make it crack under the weight of his dirty hands so that it distorts his own godawful reflection.

"Tony?" A familiar voice questions from the hallway, rough with sleep. The billionaire curses softly, tilting away from the light to try and hide himself, but the damage is done. Steve steps in and catches sight of him.

The one fucking person Tony's trying to _avoid._  

"You can't," Steve says, almost desperately, hurrying over to Tony. "You haven't drank in so long, Tony, you can't... I'm proud of you, you know."

 _Proud_. Angrily, Tony swings his arm around, sending the glass flying to the ground next to him, watching as it shatters into a billion pieces. Each shard glints sparkling moonlight that's leaking in through the glass panes of Stark Tower, and Tony has never seen anything more beautiful. He growls, "I wasn't going to."

There's a pause, before two powerful hands are placed gently on his shoulders. Tony buries his face into the palm of one hand, trying not to cry, because this is a perfect moment- _would_ be perfect if it ended in something other than hurt. Tony's a damn genius, and he can calculate the events of this night as well as JARVIS can tattle on his unhealthy work hours. Steve will plunge deep into the bucket of _best friends forever_ bullshit until he leaves, and Tony is left wondering where the fuck he messed up so badly he can't have anything for himself now. 

He can finally understand the drama of unrequited love and how Shakespeare describes it in agony right along with teenage girls. It shakes him to the core, and there's no one he would tell it to except the one who it's about. What a pity.

"What's wrong?" And Steve sounds so actually fucking concerned, Tony wants to turn around to hit him. It's not even fair because Steve's such a good person who deserves better and what the fuck is he even doing here? Up past two in the morning to counsel a sad, old, wasted drunk like him. _What's wrong?_ Everything in the whole wide world is wrong, but Tony shouldn't be surprised. He's never in the right for anything important. _Important_ important.

 _Everything is wrong_. "Fucking nothing." 

It sounds vicious but Tony loses control of his own tone and demeanor and words sometimes, and it might be just another side effect of being human. At least, that's what he tells himself. Because who wants to love anyone that lashes out in all the wrong moments and slips away in the right ones? It's like snapping a rubber band and trying to re-tie it. Doesn't work. Messy. Too difficult.

"Tony," Steve says, almost forcefully, and makes him look up. All Tony can feel is the hand on his shoulder and the hand gripping his stubble and they both seem incredibly warm. "You can tell me. I'm your teammate, but I'm also your friend. One of your best friends."

Tony is starting to lose eye contact.

"I'm... I'm here for you, alright?" Captain America is here for him. Tony wishes he could tell Steve, but who wants to find out that they're the damn problem? He shoves the soldier away, getting to his feet. 

"I'm pissed," Tony explains very carefully, "Because I love somebody. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them, because I love them beyond literal belief. I could write five novels and a play about it."

"Then what's the problem?"

"He doesn't love me back," Tony whispers, and it's so blatantly obvious in that moment he could hit himself after hitting Steve. There can't possibly be anyone else this is about, can there? Not Pepper. Not fucking anyone. What is he doing? What is he saying? "He doesn't love me back."

Steve's only reply is, "How do you know?" before drawing even closer, a dangerous temptation of muscle and words. His voice is soft, a faint rasp to it, a lullaby. Tony cannot breathe, but somehow manages to scoff.

"What do you mean, how do I know?" He slides the vodka bottle away, and it doesn't topple because he's had years of practice on rejecting liquor. Maybe all of that would've been wasted today. "I'm a genius. I know everything."

"Not everything," Steve murmurs, and kisses him. 

Tony is so fucking relieved and happy he could sob to death, but there's not much emotion to focus on when a pair of warm, pliant lips are pressed against his own. He almost expects to hear cat-calling, whistling, and various cameras go off. But Tony remembers that this is Steve, and they're something intimate altogether. Not for the cameras. Not for the crowd. Just Steve and Tony, basking in beautiful glows of crimson and jaundice as the first light of dawn breaks through. 

"Drama queen," Steve whispers against Tony's skin, and the accused man throws his head back to laugh. Pure joy tumbles out of his lips like the freshwater of a running river. Clean. Untouched. New.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating in like a month. Thanks to the readers still sticking around.


	6. Dangerous Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((SEX IN THIS CHAPTER :)) (not graphic but still)

"Steve," growls a low voice, dangerous and edged with something indescribable. It vibrates to the core of Steve's being, clenching hard around him, holding him hostage against an invisible force.

He knows what might come next, and the anticipation is _already_ unbearable. Captain America turns around swiftly, meeting narrowed brown eyes, breathing heavily yet holding his stance.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye to me?" Tony threatens, gravel in his words, as he pushes Steve against a brick wall. There's a little passive aggression laced in his demeanor, in the hands that touch him, but it can't be anything more than just restrained desire. It's ridiculous; they're in a populous city within a narrow alleyway that someone could stumble into any second.

But Steve says nothing, and instead reaches down as the billionaire fists his hair, grip unbelievable, and kisses him roughly, hurriedly, mercilessly. It's fast and reckless, but Steve can't really bring himself to care as he pushes back with equal force, taking ahold of soft lips between his teeth.

Captain America knows his team has retreated into the shadows, preparing to take on the enemy with scarring words and sharp blades. The thrill before an attack always has his nerves riding, filling him with excitement that churns his stomach and sends anxious trembles running up and down his veins. He can barely contain himself, but with Tony, he knows he can be rough.

"No time," Steve mutters, before flipping their positions around so that Tony is trapped against the wall now. The other man struggles, but he knows he's no match for the super-soldier's strength, and instead relents with a twisted smirk. He pins both of Tony's arms with his own hands above their heads, continuing the heated kissing.

Then Steve presses his body more into Tony, accidentally brushing, and groans at the contact, fire beginning to smolder deep down in his gut. Tony feels it too, and his breath hitches only momentarily before he's grinding _hard_ into the other man, making him moan in disbelief and pleasure. "We're in- in an alley," Steve bites out as a hot kiss is pressed into the juncture of his neck, "We're on- duty."

The billionaire rolls his hips (and eyes) again, eliciting a breathless pant, snarling, " _Shut up and take me_ ," and then Captain America is undressing himself (thank god his uniform is stashed away at the moment) before unbuckling Tony, too. Tony's running careful hands over every inch of muscled chest before pulling them away to hook them around Steve's neck as he's hoisted into the air, legs wrapping around his waist, back digging into the wall.

They both moan piteously as Steve pushes in, Tony's fingers jabbing into his back, indescribable pleasure exploding in him. The position is stupid and disagreeable, but neither of them care much over the sensation. Steve is slow and careful, restraining himself, but Tony pants, "Fuck, _faster,_ " and then he's thrusting with as much strength as he can muster.

When it's finished and they're both breathing hard with the aftershocks, Steve gently cleans Tony up. He murmurs, "We're so late," but Tony grins, eyes closed, and replies, "Worth it."

Captain America tries to ignore the pleasant warmth seeping into his bones at the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally was going to do this as a stand-alone fic because i've always wanted to do a pre-mission/battle goodbye/anger/hate/want sex thing but decided against it. so hoped you enjoyed this chapter


	7. I'll Always Find You

Steve spots a bent shadow, a fluid silhouette folding in on itself against a dirty prison wall. The shape is as familiar as the back of his hand, and his heart leaps in anxiousness and relief as he approaches the captive. "Tony?"

The man's head rises immediately from the confines of his arms, and as his face turns against the light, every sharp line becomes visible. _"Tony!"_

"Steve?" he responds, and even from a distance, Captain America can see the unhealthy pallor of Tony's skin, the thick purple crescents lining his eyes, blood stains and cuts and tired eyes. Faint light glints off the chains securing him, and when Steve finally reaches him, he rips the linked metal apart with his bare hands, no less.

"Thank God you came," Tony's voice is weak and hoarse, and the other man immediately gathers him up in his arms. The solid feel of the billionaire against his chest, arc reactor pulsing beautifully through his threadbare shirt, is more than reassuring. Tony hugs him back, and his grip isn't strong, but it's there nonetheless.

Steve fights down the anger rising in his gut at the villains responsible, and instead runs a comforting hand through tangled brown hair, pulling back to press warm kisses to his face, neck, jaw. "I was so worried... Jesus, Tony..."

"If all it takes for your undivided attention is me being kidnapped," Tony laughs softly, and Steve can't help but smile, closing his eyes against the tears while tightening his grip. Carefully, Tony nuzzles his face into the curve of the other man's neck.

"I love you so much," Steve whispers into skin, and he can feel Tony's wet lashes blinking against his own.


	8. Night Trouble

Steve cries out silently as Bucky's fingers slip from his, gloves sliding uselessly against each other as he plummets to death, hundreds of feet below the railroad snaking around the snowy mountain. There's nothing there besides the stench of death and the clench of his fists, over and over and over again.

Then the Red Skull looms above him, sneering with a scarlet smile as crimson blood flows in rivers behind him. _"You'll never win,"_ he chuckles into Steve's ear, _"It's hopeless,"_ and then Dr. Erskine chokes behind him in binding ropes, stained red, Peggy alongside him.

"Steve!" Peggy calls out, desperately, voice thick with heat and worry, struggling against her chains. "Steve, please-"

He sees red. The last thing Steve does is whirl around to punch the Skull, and he's not even there anymore, but he can still feel the crunch of bone against flesh and it unlocks a satisfied, bitter twinge in his chest-

He wakes up, entangled in the sheets, sweaty and shocked. Steve sits still for a second, trying to make sense of everything, when he spots Tony curled in on himself at the edge of the vast bed, pressing a hand to one eye.

With a terrified jolt, he realizes what happened.

"Oh my _God,"_ Steve whispers and scrambles over to him, placing careful hands on his arms. He's surprised Tony doesn't flinch away. "I'm so sorry, God, I was having a nightmare and I thought I was hitting the Red Skull-"

"It's okay, Steve," Tony bites out, and Steve can tell he's trying not to groan out loud. "You know I can handle it."

Captain America gently removes the concealing hand and stares at the mess of purple and red, black bruising starting to form around Tony's eye. _He did this._ He touches Tony's face gently, fingers skimming under the jawline, handling him like a jewel.

Then Steve is gathering Tony up in his arms, tears springing to his eyes for no apparent reason, and holds them back, because he's not the one who should be crying. Tony's tense, muscles stiff under his touch. "Let it out," he coaxes softly, "It's okay," and Tony releases a strangled moan.

"Hurts like hell," he whimpers and burrows further into Steve.

"Let me treat it," Steve says, but neither one of them move for a while.


	9. Soft Rescues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important end notes

"Can you- can you pick me up," he slurs, and the phone shakes in his hand. "Please."

"Are you drunk?" Steve questions, and there's no anger in his voice. Only quiet disappointment. He sits awake in bed, shirtless, the covers tangled around his midsection in a mess of wrinkled white. 

Tony's words are barely coherent, but he can still tell left from right. "No... no, I've been drugged, I swear it. I _swear,_ Steve."

He tenses. He's angry  _now._ "Who did it? Jesus, who drugged you, Tony?"

"I don't know," he breathes, "There's so many- so many people here. Can you please..."

The words trail off, as if he's too exhausted to speak. Steve feels the familiar spike of panic jolt through him, panic and anger and fear and anxiety, but he pushes it down and wills himself to calm down. They've dealt with far worse. "Stay on the phone with me. I'm on my way."

Only silence and light breathing. A few unintelligible words muttered.

"Must've been someone really smart to catch you like that," Steve says. He's already outside the tower, hailing a cab. The city is bustling with lights and people driving to clubs even at late night.

Tony makes a noise of agreement. "Was not on... my A-game, today, no sirree."

He keeps Tony talking on the phone, if only in short bursts and uneven lengths. When Steve arrives at whatever fancy banquet is being hosted, he finds Tony holed up inside one of the bathroom stalls, hair matted with sweat and eyes unfocused.

"Jesus," he breathes, and the other man is in his arms. He carries him bridal style and the billionaire wraps arms around his neck, pressing a hot kiss of greeting to it.

"Thanks for coming," Tony murmurs, and he's out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm super sorry for abandoning this story for like two months. I've decided to mark this as complete *FOR THE TIME BEING, but I will get back to it in time. thanks to the people who stuck around.


End file.
